Time of the Eagle Read online

  “Then, two hundred summers gone, a new tribe came to our shores, a tribe with pale skin and hair like wheat and eyes the color of the sea. In big boats they came, with sails like the wings of giant seabirds. The Shinali tribes who lived by the sea became friends with them, and traded with the newcomers, and gave them the white shining pearls from the shells in the sea. But the newcomers desired those pearls above all else, and soon they fought the Shinali for them, and sank the Shinali fishing boats, and drove the shore people far inland, and built their own stone city beside the sea. They called the city Navora.

  “More Navorans came, and the stone city grew, and other cities were built along the coast. The stone city became the center of a great Empire, and the Navorans grew in numbers and in might. Then they wanted more land for crops and for their herds, so they fought us for our inland places. We fought and lost many battles, and over the course of summers and lifetimes all our lands were stolen from us—all but one small plain, between the mountains and the city made of stone.

  “In that hard time we were given a prophecy, a promise from the All-father that a day will come when we will join with those ancient tribes who once were enemies, with the tribes of the Igaal and the Hena; and we will rise up together to fight the Navoran conquerors, whose Empire is great and whose army is yet unbeaten. And our people then will win back their stolen lands, and take up again the life they lost. The time foretold, the time of final battle and of victory, is called the Time of the Eagle.

  “But while we lived in hope on that small plain, the last of our own land, the Igaal and the Hena came down again from the north, and on one side we fought them, and on the other side we fought the Navorans. Even the Navorans were afraid of the Hena and the Igaal, for they came in multitudes that could not be counted. So the people from the stone city built a fort in the place in the mountains where the northerners came through, and they made it strong with their army, and guarded the pass. Taroth Fort it was called, and we lived in its shadow. And our chieftain in those days was Oboth, father of Tarkwan and Yeshi.

  “But the Time of the Eagle seemed yet a long way off, and we were a small nation trapped between two mighty foes, so it seemed to us a wise thing to make a treaty with the Navorans, since they guarded the pass that kept us from our northern foes. The Navorans made that treaty with us, and said we could keep our last little plain for all time. So for many summers there was peace.

  “In that peace-time the Navorans were ruled by the Empress Petra, and she kept the treaty strong. But the stone city needed land for growing food, so we sold a little of our plain, and Navorans made their farms there, and lived by us in peace. But still we hoped for the Eagle’s Time; and while we hoped there came a man to us, beautiful of face and heart, from the city of stone. His name was Gabriel Eshban Vala.

  “Gabriel dreamed Shinali dreams, and honored our ways, and loved a woman among us, called Ashila. He knew of our prophecy, for his wise ones had told him of it. For in this man’s time, in the stone city, there was much that was wrong, and an evil man, called Jaganath, was rising up in power. And this Gabriel who came to us, who was healer of bodies and minds and hearts, he, too, hoped for the Eagle’s Time, for it would mean the end of the wrong in his Empire.

  “But the evil spread fast. Oboth died, and Tarkwan became chieftain, and in his days the treaty was broken, and Navoran soldiers marched upon our land, and we were forced to fight for what was ours. And because we fought, our last plain was taken from us, and we were made prisoners in Taroth Fort. Gabriel was with us, and he and Ashila, they healed our battle-hurts, which were many and deep. But Tarkwan they could not heal, not his battle wounds or his broken heart, and he died. And in our time in Taroth Fort, when our children died of hunger and thirst and illness made us weak, the evil man from Navora, Jaganath, had it in his mind to kill us all. But the Empress Petra wanted us to live, so she fought Jaganath, and we were caught in the middle of their terrible fight. Gabriel, too, was caught, but his heart, and the heart of Empress Petra, they were close. And while we were in Taroth Fort, Gabriel called upon the Empress to help, and she sent him a letter, and that letter gave us freedom.

  “But on that day of our liberation, Gabriel was summoned to the city of stone. He had done a secret thing beyond our knowing, and traded for our freedom with his life. We did not know, when we set out on our journey to far lands and to hope, that we would not see his face again; but after two full moons we knew, and mourned for him. And we mourned another thing: the joy went out of our freedom, for we realized that the new Emperor in the stone city was Jaganath, and he was pursuing us, for he feared the Time of the Eagle. And so began the Wandering.

  “But with every rising of the sun the ancient prophecy burns anew in our hearts; and with every rising of the moon we dream of our lost land. For the land is our life, our hearts’ home, our place of belonging. In it lies our freedom and our peace. So we wait for the day of our return. We wait for the Eagle’s Time.”

  3

  With the end of the story, the formal part of the night was over.

  The roasted meat was brought in, and we were ready to feast. Zalidas spoke a blessing over the food and over us, and then, for the only time in my life, I was allowed to fill my bowl first, before the chieftain.

  I don’t remember that we ever had such a feast before, except for Yeshi’s wedding night when I was four summers old. We ate until we could eat no more, then the musicians played and we danced to the pipes and drums while the elders clapped in time to the music’s beat. We worked up a high lot of excitement with our leaping and whirling, and the drums echoed back like heartbeats from the mountains. When we were all worn out the musicians put their instruments away, and it was time for the priest’s final blessing on me.

  He was standing where Yeshi and I had sat for the story, with my father’s sword above him. I stood before him, with the whole tribe gathered behind me, pressed close. There were only us two standing, the priest and I, for his blessing was like a foretelling for my life, and was for my ears alone. But as I waited a fear went over me that he would say things too heavy for me to bear. With all my being I was aware of my father’s sword, of the letter from the Empress Petra, of the vast, wondrous heritage my father had given me, and I hoped I could be worthy of it.

  Zalidas began with the traditional blessing, and I bent my head, my eyes closed. I felt the weight of the priest’s hands on my hair. I felt, too, the pain in him, his great weariness. “All-father, put your hand on this daughter’s life,” he said. “Keep her in your love, in the knowledge of you and all your ways.”

  He hesitated, and I waited for his whispered personal blessing. But he lifted his hands from my head, and I glanced up. He had stepped back and was clutching his chest, his eyes rolled upward. I thought he was ill. Beside us, Yeshi leaped to his feet. Suddenly Zalidas began chanting. A strange chant it was, low and haunting and powerful, such as he used in trances when he moved in other realms and saw into the deep mysteries of things. He was reciting an ancient prayer, talking to those long departed from this world.

  Spellbound, afraid, I watched him. I saw a white light about his head, and a shifting in the shadows all around. A look of rapture came over him. He seemed to grow, to shine, to gather about himself powers and presences that blessed and uplifted him, until he seemed strong and potent, and the years fell off him; and there was no pain, only a great glory and a communion with things otherworldly and high. All this I understood in my heart, and the hairs rose on the back of my neck. I wanted to flee, but the priest’s hand shot out and gripped my wrist. At the same time his chant became a song. He sang of war and of peace, of fields of fire, and the shadow of a mighty eagle’s wings.

  As his voice died away there was a profound quietness in the tent, except that some of the old ones sobbed. I was trembling, for he still held my wrist, and I could feel the power in him. I thought he had finished, but he suddenly cried out in a loud voice: “Gabriel, our beloved son, began the Eagle’s Time, bu
t his daughter, she shall finish it! He bought our freedom, but she shall bind us together with the tribes of the Hena and the Igaal, those who once were enemies, and she shall unite us into a great army that shall win us back our land! This day the Eagle begins its flight! This day its rise begins! This day, with this daughter, blood of the new and blood of the old, child of love out of nations that hate, child of war and child of peace, Daughter of the Oneness, blessed cord that binds.”

  And he gripped my hand more tightly still until I cried out with pain. Then, suddenly, he relaxed his hold. His eyes closed, and the light about him seemed to diminish. All of him seemed to shrink, to become again a frail old man.

  I helped him to sit down, and he smiled fondly, as a grandfather might, and thanked me. Then he said, quietly and calmly, “This day it begins, the Oneness. I bless you, daughter. I bless you, for through you it comes.”

  I knew his words were meant as a blessing, but I felt the awful weight of them, and was afraid. Also—though I am ashamed, now, to speak of it—I doubted in my heart that Zalidas was right. Then my mother led me away, out to the river where I could be at peace. She kissed my cheek, and left me there alone.

  For the rest of the night I sat looking at the river and the eastern mountains until the sun came up and set the peaks aflame. It flooded the valley with fire, and turned the waters of the river scarlet like blood. Then I thought on how my father had died to carry out his destiny, and I shook with fear lest Zalidas had been right, and I was to be a child of war; and that my way, like my father’s, would lead to suffering.

  As the sun rose, my mother came out and sat by me on the grass. Behind us, the camp was awake. We could hear children playing, and people talking. Women came down to the river to collect water in jars and to wash the bowls from last night’s feast, but they stayed far from us. The sounds of ordinary life seemed strange, for all had changed for me.

  “It is a heavy thing, to learn one’s destiny,” my mother said.

  “I thought I knew what mine was,” I replied. “You told me once that our destiny is always to do with what gives us highest joy. I have that joy now, helping you and Grandmother with the healings, making medicines. I want only to be a healer.”

  “You will be a healer,” she said, “if you heal the hearts of our enemies, and help us all to become one. Healing is more than stitching up cuts, my love. And peacemaking, I’m thinking it’s the highest kind of healing of all.”

  “But am I to be a peacemaker?” I asked. “Or am I to go and gather up an army, and march it off to war? I’m not knowing what Zalidas meant. I’m not even sure he said the prophecy over the right person.”

  “What do you mean, love?” she asked, looking at me, surprised, shading her eyes from the early sun.

  “Did he speak the prophecy over me, over Avala, healer and new woman?” I asked. “Or did he speak it over the daughter of Gabriel? Sometimes, Mother, I don’t know who I am, who I’m supposed to be. Some of the boys, they say that . . . that it’s not fair, the way I’m favored. And I’m thinking that what they say is true. I’m thinking that no one sees me for me, for who I am. Even Zalidas favors me, and that’s why he said those things last night. He said them because I’m Gabriel’s daughter. He wasn’t being fair. I’m not a warrior. I’m not even a good speech-maker. How will I persuade the Hena and Igaal to fight with us—if that’s what I’m supposed to do? I think Zalidas made a mistake.”

  “If what Zalidas said is true,” she said, “you will find the vision in your own heart. You will know your destiny for yourself, not because a priest told it to you. You’re confused now, but when the time is right everything will be made clear to you. Meanwhile, hold close to your friends, who love you, and shut your ears to envy. Anyone who is different finds life hard. Your father, he felt alone at times, and some of his people were jealous of him, too. Sometimes he didn’t know who he was. He called himself a Navali once, when he didn’t know if he was Navoran or Shinali.”

  We laughed a little together, and I felt comforted. “I suppose I’m a true Navali,” I said, “since I’m half Navoran and half Shinali. Yet when I saw the man Embry yesterday, that was the first time I’ve seen a Navoran close. He was supposed to be my enemy, but he was not. He was my father’s friend, a friend to Yeshi, to you, to all of us. Men like him, like my father, have loved our people. Surely there are more like them. All Navorans can’t want us dead. Yet we flee from them like rabbits fleeing from a fox.”

  “The Navoran with highest power is the Emperor Jaganath,” she said. “What he commands is done. And he wants us dead. The prophecy of the Time of the Eagle is not forgotten in Navora, certainly not forgotten by Jaganath. He knows that if the prophecy is fulfilled, he will lose everything. So he wants to wipe out every chance that the Eagle might rise. He wants to wipe out our race.”

  “And we want to wipe out the Navoran race,” I said. “Which one of us is right? Or are we both wrong? Can we not live in peace, side by side?”

  “Not all of Navora will be destroyed, in the Eagle’s Time,” she replied. “The prophecy also speaks of a Navoran remnant that will survive, a group of dwellers near our Shinali land, who will live in peace with us, and make a new way. I believe that Gabriel’s mother, your Navoran grandmother, is among those people. The Time of the Eagle is not about destroying the nation that stole our lands, though many of us have lost sight of that; it’s about making a new life for all of us. Then, we will all live in peace, side by side. That part of the prophecy is a great comfort to me.”

  “Are you ever afraid, Mother, that the Emperor Jaganath will find us? That the prophecy won’t come true?”

  “Even great prophecies are not set in stone, but depend on human beings to work them out and fight for them and bring them into being. And human beings are frail. We are all afraid at times. Even your father knew fear.”

  “Was he afraid of his destiny?”

  “Yes, at times he was. Sometimes our destiny is hard, my love, and costs us much. But it is always to do with the things we love most deeply, and there is always joy in it, somewhere. Don’t worry about how you will carry out the task ahead; your path will unfold before you, one step at a time. You don’t have to search for your destiny; it will find you.”

  She caressed my cheek, moving her thumb around the painted Navoran horse, and I knew she was thinking how like my father I was. Always there seemed to be two loves in her eyes when she looked at me; she saw my face, and loved it, and she saw another face, behind and beyond, that she loved above all else. Other men in the tribe had wanted her for wife, for she was a high lot beautiful, but she never went to them. She was my father’s, then and now.

  “May I ask you something, Mother?” I said.

  “Anything, love.”

  “You and my father, why did you never marry? You had time, in Taroth Fort, and Zalidas, he would have blessed it.”

  She looked away, over the river, her eyes full of sunlight and far things. “We wanted to marry,” she said. “But Tarkwan would not give his permission. He said there would be no blessing-rituals until we were free again, that there could be nothing blessed in captivity. And yet your father and I, we were blessed, and we were married in our hearts.”

  Suddenly someone called to her, and people ran toward us from the tents.

  “Ashila! It’s Zalidas! He’s collapsed!”

  Zalidas had a high fever, and although my mother did all she could for him, by morning’s middle he still lay unknowing. People walked about quietly, new fears mingling with their wonder at the prophecies spoken last night. Only the children played as usual. I went to sit with my friends on the grass, needing to talk about everyday things, but conversation stopped when I joined them. No one would look at me.

  Then one of the girls said, “When will you go, Avala?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “When will you go on your long journey to the Hena and the Igaal?”

  “I’m not knowing the answer to that,” I said
. “Maybe not for many summers yet.”

  One of the youths said, “If Zalidas spoke all those words over me, I’d be wanting to rise up like a warrior, and go this very day.”

  “I’m not a warrior,” I said. “I’m a healer. I don’t like fighting.”

  One of the young men stood up. He was Neshwan, and he had been a small child in Taroth Fort. He remembered that place, and he hated the Navorans a high lot. Across his bare chest was tattooed an eagle in full flight, its talons spread for attack.

  “Did you tell Zalidas that?” he asked, with a scornful smile. “Is that why he collapsed? His precious warrior-woman doesn’t want to fight?”

  His companions laughed. Three companions he had, and they were all hotheads. There was mockery in their laughter, in the way they looked at me. In that moment I realized that it was not only resentment in them, but hate. It shocked me, and I stood up to go, not knowing how to deal with it.

  One of the girls, my friend Santoshi, stood with me. She was nearly two summers older than me and had a loyal heart.

  “Don’t be listening to him, Avala,” she said softly. “He’s jealous, because he wishes Zalidas’s words had been spoken over him.”

  “I’m not jealous,” said Neshwan, overhearing. “Why would I be jealous of someone who’s done nothing all her life except sit in the sunshine of her father’s honor? You’ve had an easy life, Avala, with all the old ones falling over themselves to please you, because you were his. I’m not speaking against Gabriel; he was a good man, and I remember him like a light in a dark time. But you have done nothing, and they hold you up—”